Life with Narcissa Black
by itsjustmel
Summary: Narcissa Black is eighteen years old and secretly disagrees with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Her life follows her secret and eventual friendships with the Gryffindors, and how she will always be there for Harry. R&R loved. Begins with prologue.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I haven't written a story in such a long time, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I'm kind of rusty!**

Narcissa Black was thin, worryingly so - the gaunt expression in her face often caused others to stare - depending on the light, she looked skeletal. Despite this, she was beautiful, charismatic, delightful. Being from a particularly aristocratic family had influenced and shaped her personality considerably; when she was younger the terrible word "Mudblood" simply bounced off her, for she did not know its wicked associations. The innocence of her youth draped itself like a protective cape around her, shielding her from the reality of Pureblood life.

Her cousin, Sirius, arrogant with his friends and family, had often despised her. Even at a young age, she had not understood why he delibrately went out of his way to upset the family members with his cruel remarks. "You're just like the rest of them!" he had exclaimed, once, as Narcissa had been mocking a muggle boy with her sister, Bellatrix. Sirius had pushed Narcissa over, and being only seven years old, she had began to cry. Her mother and father showed little sympathy. "He is young," they had claimed, "He will grow out of it."

Certainly, he disposed of his cruel words as he matured, but the arrogance and blatant dislike for Narcissa and his family had remained. Him and that Potter boy were always causing trouble ... Gryffindors! Causing trouble!

Of course, Narcissa herself was a Slytherin. Like the name suggested, the majority of the students in the Slytherin house were cold and serpent like; refusing to associate themselves with other houses in the school. Severus Snape, one of her dearest friends, was alike and yet unlike other Slytherins. Though he could be wicked, and could cast a silent hex faster than the rest of them by their fifth year, he was quiet-reserved.

Snape seemed to consider things more than others; particularly the Dark Arts. Every single piece of homework he wrote for it came back with "Outstanding." Narcissa was lucky if she got an "Acceptable" grade. Even the rest of her friends, as they progressed to the seventh year, were barely managing an "Acceptable" or "Exceeds Expectations." Snape's grades were always "Outstanding." He never studied, though, Narcissa had noticed; when she was studying for the end of year examinations, perhaps a little more stressed than she should have been, he was quietly sat in the corner of the common room, reading an old Potions book. As he turned the pages, occasionally a smirk would cross his face, and he would jot down something in the side margins.

Narcissa found it hard to look at her family when Bellatrix and Regulus signed up for Lord Voldemort. "The Death Eaters" were a small, anonymous group of Voldemort's most loyal and hand-picked members; based on Pureblood and Aristocratics; those who agreed with Voldemort's thoughts and wanted to follow his actions. Of course, their contract with him was permanent and eternal; once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.

Her mother and father, ridiculously smug as ever, had been very proud of Bellatrix and Regulus and had gone out of their way to shower them both with expensive gifts. But when Regulus had been murdered at the hand of the Dark Lord himself ... well, her mother and father still continued to praise the Dark Lord and his ways, which were "correct" for society. "Mudbloods-filthy mudbloods-poisoning and staining our society like they- like they own the place! Pah! Inbreds, mutants, scum!" her father would regularly shout, often unnecessarily. Often to himself.

Now, Narcissa was eighteen years old and was courting Lucius Malfoy. Smothered in wealth and luxury, Narcissa had taken to Lucius's lifestyle well. He was a nice man, she had to admit - he certainly cared for her. But she often felt like she was ... perhaps an ornament on Lucius's shelf of lifetime collections. There, but not to have an opinion. A trophy, to show his achivement along what had been expected of him. He was intelligent, arrogantly so. He often commented on her remarks with a sneer; his lips curled in silent mockery. He enjoyed correcting her, grammatically and on her spells. She had finished Hogwarts with average grades and did not believe in being employed.

The wealth surrounding her acted as a safety net, keeping her from the common outlook. Privately- she had wanted a job in the Ministry, but Lucius worked there and he simply would not allow it.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews :-) Short chapter but hey-ho...**

Sirius Black was lounging carelessly in Diagon Alley, leaning against a wall and soaking up the sun rays. He'd been busy all morning, jinxing unfortunate passerbys with silent hexes. It was quite amusing - they always looked around to see whom had cast the spell. He had to be careful, though, because a few Ministry Workers were dotted around Diagon Alley today. "I wonder why they're here?" Sirius commented loftily, twirling his wand in his hands. He sat down at a table and smirked at James, waiting for his best friend's reply.

James Potter looked up from the book he was reading, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "That," he said slowly, "Is obvious."

"Not to me," teased Sirius, "Would you care to enlighten?" His gaze was not on James and nor was the majority of his attention; he was surveying Severus Snape who was loitering outside the broomstick shop. "As if Snape could ever ride a broomstick," smirked Sirius, "He's so greasy he'd just slide off."

James sighed. Sometimes, he felt as if Sirius was never "there" in the real world; he surveyed it lazily and took little notice of any events. The immaturity and lack of adult principles and rolemodels in Sirius's life had affected his judgement and outlooks considerably. "The Death Eaters, of course. No one dares to admit there's a storm brewing. But there is."

Sirius snorted in disbelief. "Since when did you get so wise, J?" He got up from the table and made his way to Snape, but James grabbed his arm and restrained him. "What are you doing?" said Sirius crossly.

Snape glanced over and his lip curled with amusement; he fluttered over like an overgrown and eccentric bat, his cape far too big for him and billowing behind him. "Well well well, what do we have here? A most misfortunate and most unappealing Sirius Black, in Diagon Alley. Tell me, Black, have you not heard about the Death Eaters? All these murders, do you not stop to think for one second that perhaps, if you are most uncareful and careless as you are now, you may just..."

"May just what?" shouted Sirius, his cheeks flooding with colour.  
>"Don't, Snape," said James, resentment highlighting his maturing features. He pursed his lips and shook his head, floppy hair falling into his eyes. "Just don't. It isn't right to joke about murders."<p>

Snape smiled coldly. "Who said I was joking, Potter? And who are you to reflect any sort of command to me? We are not in school, now, do not forget that." His cold, uncaring eyes passed over Sirius and in disgust, Snape added, "Perhaps if you were not so juvenile, Black, you would realise what Potter really thought of you." Sirius lunged forward, James grabbed Sirius's arm. Snape darted away, laughing, and sprinted down an alley way and out of sight. "Sirius ... I know he's frustrating but the more you let him get to you, the more you will get wound up and the more he will continue to wind you up." James sighed and let go of Sirius.

Sirius's face contorted with anger. "Why the hell are you sticking up for _SNIVELLUS_? Oh, I'm not good enough for you now, am I James? I'm just too ''immature.' Right?'"

James turned away and held his book tightly to his chest. "I'm not talking to you when you're like this, Sirius. And I doubt Remus will want to, either. Or Peter."

"JUST EXPLAIN TO ME WHY YOU''VE-_YOU'VE CHANGED_! You used to love making fun of Snape, would not think twice about hurting him-" Sirius was babbling now, his cheeks tinting with anger, "-what is it? What have you done?"

James surveyed Sirius with indifference. "The rumour of the Death Eaters, Siri. Life's too short and yet Death is always present. Make the most of what you can before it's too late." James blushed; Sirius noticed. And he understood.

"James - you haven't!" he gasped, falling over his own feet as he tried to regain his balance.

Sunlight trapsed through the net curtains and sunshine dust rose from the floorboards, drifting around Narcissa's bedroom aimlessly. Alone in her kingsize bed, she was in a peaceful slumber. Her long, golden hair covered her face and the majority of her pillow as she slept peacefully. Lucius had left early for work at the Ministry, and so today, Narcissa would be quite alone.

As the clock chimed noon, she awoke from her dreams and slowly sat up in her bed. Her doll like features were tinted with fatigue, despite the extended rest (Lucius always left the house at 6:30 sharp; he wished Narcissa to get up at that time, too, because sleep was for the idle and not the beautiful.)

What complete nuisance. Narcissa would sleep for however long as she wanted! She scampered to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, pouting a little. She was vain and she knew it. She pointed her wand at her face, instantly perfect make-up outlined all of her features. She casually flicked her wand to her hair and the messy, bed hair turned into luxurious curls. She washed and dressed; a green dress. Lucius wanted to withold the Slytherin legacy; even her underwear was green. This, in her point of view, was borderline obsession with the Slytherin house.


End file.
